


A Self-Debriefing with Puru-Two

by DeaconofSlaanesh



Category: Gundam & Related Fandoms, Gundam ZZ, Universal Century Gundam
Genre: Diary/Journal, Gen, Judau adopts a Puru, Self-Reflection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:42:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25139440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeaconofSlaanesh/pseuds/DeaconofSlaanesh
Kudos: 2





	A Self-Debriefing with Puru-Two

January 21, UC 0089

This last week has been easily the most confusing time in my life. Last year my country established its hegemony over the world, and now I’m not even sure if we still exist. Our main force concentration surrendered to the EF; might or might not have been a sound strategic decision. If Haman was still alive she probably could have gotten us out of that mess. Especially if my ~~men~~ ~~girls~~ clones hadn’t all run off a cliff labeled WARNING: UNSTABLE TWO-TONE STRIPPER. The worst part is that they were trying to kill Haman, but she would have killed herself without their help anyway. But what do I know, I’m ten. I lost two of the best mobile suits in the solar system in the same day. And I nearly died, not even in battle, but because I went to use my Cyber-Newtype mojo to help out the bridge crew of the guys I’d let capture me and didn’t have nearly as much blood in my body as I’d assumed. I just want to forget this whole affair ever happened and see if the AEUG doesn’t think themselves too good to recruit a pre-teen.

However, while I’m not sure of everything that happened, I’m fairly sure that the events of last week are historically important, and that I played a central role in them. I feel it prudent to write down what exactly I was thinking when I did what I did, so that if any journalist or whatever finds me and asks me, I can say that what I’ll say below.

I’ve never been the sort of girl who could ignore a hunch, even before I became a Cyber-Newtype, and that process certainly didn’t help. After all, when one is guided through the steel and fire of a battlefield by intuition alone, and comes out alive, why shouldn’t one navigate life in general by the same method? On Earth, enemies would point hundreds of missiles at my life, in the hopes of overwhelming my MS’s countermeasures. I would maneuver directly at this carpet, discerning which ones had been poorly manufactured and thus would not explode correctly, and barrel through this one weak spot to catch the enemy unawares. Surely no person could be so treacherous to navigate?

That’s why I accepted the mission to kill Haman. Rakan and his team thought the mission was suicidal, and they were right. To enter her own sanctum on Core-3 and gun down the handmaiden of Princess Mineva herself would invite one of two possibilities. Either I would be gunned down by security in the attempt, or I would be captured and brutally tortured for information on who had sent me, who had conspired with me. I like to think that in such a circumstance I wouldn’t say a word, and would be killed out of spite by the interrogation team. Rakan and his team thought I was crazy for asking to carry out such a mission, and even Glemy had been surprised. Glemy’s plan originally had been to use a cloned impersonator of myself to gain the meeting with and betray Haman Khan. But I knew that I would not die on that colony, and I certainly didn’t want a clone to go and lose my beautiful red Qubeley. Indeed, as I left Core-3 riding my machine through the starry expanse, there was not a scratch on my body. Haman was also unharmed, but that was just how things went sometimes. My intuition, at least most of the time, doesn’t extend as far as other people.

Of course, sometimes it does. Like with the case of Rutina, for instance. When I’d arrested the girl, I’d been beset with a feeling that the Core-3 jail would be her place of death. It was strange since, although Rutina had been caught with AEUG elements, we don’t, we didn’t make a policy of executing children. At worst, we would have sent her to a low-sensitivity industrial battalion or construction detail somewhere for the duration of the war. Looking back, her would-have-been demise probably would have been at the hands of the asteroid base Glemy had later launched at Core-3, rather than from the guns of the firing squad. I’ve only pieced this together recently. At the actual time I rescued Rutina, I believed with every fiber of my being that it was her execution what was imminent. I must admit, it feels good when I realize why I did something.

It’s a bit harder to explain why Rutina’s possible death had pinged my senses. As I said before, my intuition don’t normally extend to other people. The whole affair reminds me of how, in books and movies, people can sometimes sense when bad things are due to happen to their lovers. But those people aren’t newtypes, and Rutina isn’t my lover. I merely carpooled with her. There was nothing else, and it wasn’t even a long trip. But through that brief contact Rutina had somehow misunderstood me as a nice person, which I’m not. People don’t normally call me a nice person, and the feeling I’d received from this misunderstanding was quite strange. Rectifying this misunderstanding had been a main reason why I’d gone to rescue the girl before her death. Striding into a jail with a military ID and a loaded pistol, empathically feeling the awe and confusion of the guards, and plucking out one of their charges from her cell like an osprey might pluck a fish from a stream, was also a reason. And experiencing once more the feeling Rutina had given me, that was another reason.

Naturally, such misunderstandings as to my nature did not have the same quality when Judau did make them as when Rutina did. Although they were of similar nature, the one was obviously a naive compliment and the other had the air of insult. Judau had fought me at Dublin. He’d watched me kill my own progenitor. Shouldn’t he have known better? Judau, with an inferior mobile suit albeit with outside help, then trod me in during that battle. In retrospect, I doubt I could actually do anything that would make him kill me. He is just that kind of person. I should have realized this about him when he stopped shooting at me after he opened up my escape pod at Dublin, but at the time I attributed that narrow escape to a mechanical failure in his MS. To me, at the time, knowing only that which I knew then and not knowing what I didn’t know, his claim of myself not being suited for battle only had the quality of rubbing it in. To top it all off, he warned me of an incoming mega-particle blast that I hadn’t yet sensed. It was a clear display of superior newtype prowess, and it had made me so mad that I couldn’t sense the beam in time to do anything but eject from my Qubeley. My beautiful red Qubeley, nothing but litter now.

Admittedly, the blast was not actually aimed at me, and detecting hostile intent is a key part of how I normally dodge beam fire.

That’s an excuse. Excuses are for those without the capability of rectifying their mistakes. And I will correct myself. The fact was that Judau had, in the course of our battles, definitively proven himself to be superior to me both as a pilot and as a newtype. I don’t like the idea of being outclassed. I feel an itch to solve the problem by dueling with and killing Judau, but it’s simply not suitable. Not because Judau is better than me do I eschew a violent solution. Killing Judau would be difficult, but I savor a challenge. But as a new associate of the Nahel Argama, killing a crewmate would be absolutely over the line. It also can’t be denied that I do owe Judau something, for the grace that he and my progenitor had showed me.

Judau is, as a companion, imperfect. He doesn’t want me to fight or to hone my skills on the sims. He wants me to be his little sister, even though he already has one. I can’t begin to understand the logic behind that goal. But Elpeo told me this is the right path. I find it difficult to understand Elpeo. She’s always been in my corner, even after I killed her. But she knows Judau far better than I do, and I’ve given up trying to attribute what she does to lulling me into a false sense of security so she can kill me later. It didn’t take me long after realizing this to leave Glemy.

Now, how’s that working? To be sure, living with Judau is preferable to continuing to serve under that shit-faced, cum-brained, piss-haired Gihren wannabe who destroyed my country and would have spaced me to get out of a parking ticket. Yet even so, I would prefer that Judau would respect my decisions. I think the silent ecstasy of flight and the chaotic order of battle will always have a grip on my heart, so how can I make him understand?  
-Puru Two


End file.
